His Best Friend's Wife Page 10

  “Oh.” She did not need to be hearing this right now. When she’d said “we’ll see” to Isaac, she had hoped to buy some time, come up with a good argument for not getting another dog right now. She had also hoped if she stalled long enough, the puppies might find other homes. Mel’s offer was a deal changer. This gave her the chance to fill a void in her son’s life without making hers unmanageable. “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll think about it.”

  “His name’s Bentley,” Mel said. “Nice dog, real good with kids.”

  What little resistance Annie had slipped away. “That’s good to know. I’ll talk it over with my family tonight and give you a call tomorrow.”

  She unlocked her car and, as he stowed everything in the back, she checked the time. Perfect. All her errands were done with five minutes to spare.

  “Thanks, Mel.” She locked her car and set off down the block and across the street to the café, where she was meeting Emily for lunch. Her father was right. Annie worked hard and she deserved to treat herself once in a while.

  * * *

  PAUL STIRRED CREAM into his coffee. Morning coffee with Annie would always be his first choice. And while lunch with Jack was a definite second place, Paul was glad for the invitation. Their lives in Chicago had been fast-paced and they had both been driven to progress in their respective careers. Now here they were in sleepy Riverton, finally making a concerted effort to stay in touch regularly.

  Annie’s half sister, Rose, wasn’t working the lunch shift today. This was a good thing, he decided. They didn’t need her eavesdropping on their conversation.

  His cell phone pinged with an incoming message.

  Something’s come up at the station. Can’t make it after all. Sorry, buddy. Jack.

  Well, that was disappointing, but understandable. Paul was debating whether he should order lunch or just finish his coffee and leave, when Annie walked in.

  * * *

  ANNIE GLANCED AROUND the interior of the café. No sign of Emily yet. Then her gaze landed on the last person she expected to see.

  “Paul, hi.” She looked as surprised to see him as he was to see her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was meeting Jack for lunch but he can’t make it. What about you?”

  “I’m having lunch with Emily. We’re going to do some wedding planning.”

  “I see. Would you like to join me?”

  “You want to listen to us talk about food and flowers?”

  He laughed. “Okay, not really, but you’re welcome to sit with me until she gets here.”

  “Sure.” She slid into the booth and sat across from him. “What time was Jack supposed to be here?”

  “Twelve thirty, but then something came up at the station at the last minute.”

  “I see.”

  “What time is Emily supposed to be here?”

  “Twelve thirty.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  Did he? she wondered. Because she was pretty sure she did. This was a setup. She took out her cell phone and checked for messages. Sure enough, there was a text from Emily, sent a minute ago.

  Can’t make it. Sorry. My publisher called. Needs me to take care of something right away. TTYL. Em.

  “Everything okay?” Paul asked.

  “It seems my sister can’t make it, either. Something to do with the book she’s working on.”

  “So we’ve both been stood up?”

  No, we’ve been set up. “I guess we have,” she said.

  He handed her a menu. “Then we might as well order some lunch.”

  She scanned the menu, glancing up at Paul several times, finding him doing the same. Each time, their gazes connected for a split second before they quickly looked at their menus. This was silly. And awkward. Did he suspect her family of matchmaking? Or did he think this was purely a coincidence?

  How could they? Even her father had been in on this, encouraging her to stay in town for lunch. Emily had readily agreed to meet, and then she’d promptly dragged Jack into it. As for CJ, she had no obvious role in this particular caper, but Annie knew she was involved. She may even have been the mastermind.

  Annie should have worn something more appropriate. She had pulled a pale blue hoodie over her T-shirt and she was still wearing the same jeans she’d worn while making breakfast, vacuuming the house and cleaning out the chicken coop. And because she had planned to run errands and have lunch with her sister—in other words, nothing special—she had only waved a little mascara at her lashes and dabbed her lips with gloss. The gloss was long gone.

  Paul had rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt almost to the elbows, but it still looked crisp in spite of his having worked at the clinic all morning. He wore a paisley tie in subdued shades of dark green and brown. A perfect match for his eyes, she thought, and wondered if he had chosen it for himself. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe a woman he’d been dating in Chicago had picked it out for him. Not that it mattered who he had dated then, and she was sure he wasn’t seeing anyone now. Jack wouldn’t have joined in on this matchmaking conspiracy if his friend had another woman in his life.

  “Annie?”

  “What?”

  “Do you know what you’d like to order?”

  “Oh.” She looked up to find Paul and the waitress, Heather Wilson, watching her intently. Heather was married to Jesse Wilson, who had dropped out of high school the year before Annie, Paul, Jack and Eric had graduated. Jesse worked at the feedlot in Pepin and spent a good chunk of his paycheck on booze and cigarettes. He and Heather lived in the Cottonwood Trailer Park on the east side of town. Jesse’s sister, Becky, was a hairdresser and owned the Clip ’n’ Curl, the hub of Riverton’s rumor mill. By that afternoon, everyone who went in to have their hair done would know Annie Finnegan Larsen had been seen having lunch with Dr. Paul Woodward. By tonight, everyone in the trailer park would have heard, and by this time tomorrow, the whole town would be talking.

  “Do you have a lunch special?”

  “Liver and onions.”

  The thought alone was enough to make her gag. “I’ll have the BLT wrap.”

  “Soup, salad or fries?”

  “The salad, please.”

  “Ranch, Italian or balsamic vinaigrette?”

  “The vinaigrette. And coffee, please.”

  After unsmilingly peppering Annie with options, Heather turned on the charm for Paul. “And what can I get for the handsome doctor?” She was all but purring.

  If Paul noticed, he wasn’t letting on. He smiled at Annie instead. “The BLT wrap with a salad sounds good. Make that two.” He closed the menu and handed it to Heather without making eye contact.

  She snagged Annie’s menu and hustled off to the kitchen in a huff. Paul’s slight would do nothing to dampen the rumor mill but Annie didn’t care. If it wasn’t for the table between them, she would have hugged him.

  “Did we go to school with her?” Paul asked.

  “We did. That’s Heather Hobbart—Wilson now, since she married Jesse Wilson.”

  “Okay, him I remember. Jack, Eric and I got ourselves into some trouble, hanging out with him.”

  “Oh, right. I’d forgotten about that. Didn’t you have to spend a couple of Saturdays washing cruisers at the police station?”

  Paul shook his head. “More than a couple. And our parents grounded us for a month. It taught us all a lesson—several lessons, actually. One, egging police cars wasn’t cool. Two, Jesse wasn’t cool. That’s when Jack developed an interest in police work, though, and look at him now.”

  “I know. We’re so proud of him and so happy for Emily. They’re going to be amazing parents.”

  “I’m pretty sure it runs in your family. Your dad’s a good man and I see his good traits in all of you.”

  He reached
across the table and patted her hand just as Heather reappeared with a cup of coffee for Annie.

  Wonderful, she thought. More fuel for the rumor mill. But at the same time, his touch was reassuring and she was grateful for that. He didn’t take his hand away until after Heather left, and she could have sworn his eyes actually twinkled. He’d done the whole touching-hands-across-the-table thing on purpose, and Annie surprised herself by feeling glad he had.

  “How’s your father doing?” she asked, deciding a change of subject was in order.

  “He has ups and downs and we’re taking things day by day. His specialist in Madison has him on some new medication that seems to be helping.”

  “That’s a relief for you, I’m sure.” She sipped her coffee, which was surprisingly good. She thought again of what Mel had said about the dog in need of a home. “There’s something I’d like your opinion on. I’m giving some thought to letting Isaac have a dog of his own. What do you think?”

  “Ah, yes. One of the border collie puppies from Henderson’s.”

  “He told you about it?”

  Paul laughed. “He’s mentioned it a time or ten.”

  Annie laughed along with him. “He’s definitely obsessed.”

  “Research shows kids who are pet owners learn responsibility, that’s a given. There’s also a lot of evidence to show they’re healthier, happier, have better self-esteem and maybe even perform better in school.”

  Annie sighed. She knew these things intuitively, but she still questioned whether or not this was the right time to add another animal to the menagerie. “We have the horses and chickens,” she said. “And Chester.”

  “True, but CJ manages the stable and the riding programs and looks after the horses, and you take care of the chickens.”

  “True, and poor Chester is too old and arthritic to be a companion for an energetic little boy.”

  Heather appeared and set two plates on the table. “Here you go,” she said, smiling at Paul. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Looks good.” He gave her a polite smile in return and shifted his attention to Annie. “Do you need anything?”

  “No, thank you. This looks really good.”

  “Well then, I’ll leave the two of you to enjoy your lunch,” Heather said before moving on to another table.

  Paul bit into his wrap and gave it a nod of approval.

  Annie seldom ate anything she hadn’t prepared herself and she had to admit the food looked amazing. She took a bite of hers and agreed. It was as delicious as it looked.

  “So,” Paul said after devouring some of his food, “it sounds as though you’ve pretty much settled on the puppy.”

  “Not necessarily.” She explained the situation with the older dog that was housebroken and crate-trained. “And he’s graduated from obedience 101, which is an added bonus. Isaac is too young to take on the responsibility of training a puppy and I don’t have time to do a proper job of it myself. I’ve had the B and B on hiatus so I can help with the wedding, but I’ll be reopening later in the fall, in time for the holidays.”

  “Sounds like a win-win—for you, Isaac and the dog.”

  “So you think I should do it?”

  “Oh, no,” he said. “Picture me sitting on the fence here. Get the dog, don’t get the dog. It’s your decision.”

  “Because that way if I make the wrong decision, I have to own it.”

  “Pretty much.” He grinned at her. “Seriously, though, there is no wrong decision. If this is the right time for you to get a dog, you’ll know. If it doesn’t feel right, then you’ll wait.”

  “So you’re saying I should relax and go with the flow.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Annie had never been good at accepting advice—yes, she could admit that about herself—but she’d needed to hear this. “Thank you,” she said. “That’s the best non-advice advice anyone’s ever given me.”

  She held up her coffee cup and he raised his and the rims clinked.

  “These wraps are really good,” she said, starting on the second half. “So tell me, did you have pets when you were growing up?”

  “Have you forgotten I was raised by Geoff Woodward in a home his wife had been expected to keep just so? Or else? So, no, there were no pets. Not a lot of anything that resembled family fun.”

  Annie reached across the table and covered his hand with hers. She couldn’t stop herself. “Eric told me it wasn’t a very...happy house. I’m sorry.”

  But Paul was smiling. “It wasn’t all bad. My mother did what she could to soften his sternness. She used to tell me and my sister we were lucky in some ways because when we grew up and got married, it was our chance for a do-over. To make a happy home.”

  “She actually said that?”

  “She did.” The affection he still had for his mom, even though she was no longer with him, was written all over his face.

  “I wish I’d had a chance to get to know her. I think I would have liked her.”

  “And I know the feeling would have been mutual.”

  Slowly, she drew her hand away and caught a glimpse of her watch as she did. “Oh, my. Look at the time. I should go. My family will start to worry.”

  He leaned across the table. “Can I let you in on a little not-so-secret secret?” he asked, shielding his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “What’s that?”

  “Your family knows exactly where you are.”

  So he had figured out what her father and sisters and Jack were up to. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what they were thinking.”

  He pushed his empty plate to one side, leaned back in the booth, crossed his arms. “How does this sound? Next time we should make this easy for them.”

  “Easy?” She hated to say it, but they hadn’t had to put much effort in to this.

  “You do errands in town every Monday, right?”

  “I do. How did you know?”

  He avoided the question with a shrug.

  “I’m that predictable?”

  “I’d call it reliable, dependable,” he said. They both laughed.

  “Thank you for that. So, what did you have in mind for—”

  Heather chose that moment to appear. “Will there be anything else? No? Just the check then?”

  She dropped the slip on the table and sashayed away. Annie wished she had the nerve to toss her crumpled napkin at the woman’s back. She reached for her purse instead.

  “I’ll get it.” Paul tossed a couple of bills on the table. “About next Monday. How about we meet here after my shift at the clinic and after you finish your errands? That way if they try to pull a fast one on us, we can tell them we already have plans. What do you say?”

  “I say...” She’d like to say the whole lot of them deserved to be one-upped but the truth was, she no longer cared. The food here was surprisingly good and the conversation even better. “I say I’m in.”

  He stood, extended a hand to help her up. “Then it’s a date.”

  Speaking of dates... “Everyone’s coming for dinner on Sunday. Even my son’s teacher will be there. We’d love to have you join us, too.”

  He held the door for her as they left the restaurant. “I’ll be there. What about morning coffee this week?”

  “Drop by anytime you’d like.”

  “Great. I’ll text you when I have a free morning.” He glanced up and down the sidewalk. “Where are you parked?”

  “You do not have to walk me to my car,” she said as they left the café.

  “Maybe not, but I wouldn’t be much of gentleman if I didn’t.”

  The sentiment made her smile. Paul was the dictionary definition of a gentleman and she was lucky to have him for a friend. He planned to drop by again for coffee, he was coming
for Sunday dinner, and they were meeting for lunch again next Monday. She wouldn›t call it a date, exactly, but she was secretly pleased he had. She was equally grateful to her family for the set-up, although not in a million years would she give them the satisfaction of hearing her say so.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LIBBY HAD BEEN invited to Sunday night dinner at the Finnegan family farmhouse, and she felt as nervous as a schoolgirl on a first date. She hadn’t been on a date in more than thirty years. And now she fervently wished the thought hadn’t crossed her mind because it made her feel just plain old. She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror and tried not to notice the telltale lines at the corners of her eyes. The thing was, though, that Thomas had those lines, too, and they looked good on him, especially when he smiled.

  She reversed out of the driveway, easing over the curb so as not to disturb the contents of the big Tupperware cake carrier on the passenger seat. Being invited to Sunday dinner was intimidating. Having grown up an only child, and then having a childless marriage, her family dinners had been quiet and small.

  She gave the cake a nervous glance. Thomas’s daughter, Annie, had a reputation for being a stellar cook and baker—the goodies she’d sent on meet-the-parents’ day had been delicious. And Libby was sure tonight’s dinner table would further attest to Annie’s reputation.

  Still, Libby couldn’t show up empty-handed, so she had enlisted her mother’s help. Mable’s signature red velvet cake was known and loved by everyone in town, and in the back of her mind, Libby couldn’t shake the old saying that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. It was a silly notion, wishing her now-middle-aged, high-school crush might be willing to give his heart to a recently divorced schoolteacher who hadn’t been able to catch his eye when she was young and wrinkle-free.

  Of course—and this time she avoided examining her crow’s feet as she exchanged glances with herself in the mirror—a woman could do a lot worse than having a man like Thomas Finnegan as a friend. And he had suggested the two of them meet for coffee sometime, she reminded herself. He had also encouraged her to accept Annie’s invitation to Sunday dinner. Those had to count for something.